These Days
by bella'amor
Summary: When it had all gotten to be too much, Lily just left. Her decision to quit the war came back to haunt her after a chance meeting in Hogsmeade. Could she really just watch, as heroes fell and best friends became martyrs? LJ
1. These Days

Disclaimer: The fabulous Harry Potter, and all of his friends, enemies and relations belong to one J.K. Rowling. It's all hers.Lucky duck.

A/N: This fic is based on/inspired by the song _These Days_ by Rascal Flatts. It's a beautiful song--my favourite by them ) -- and I highly recommend listening to it. The lyrics are not copied in the story, but if you know them, you will be able to follow the thread of the song throughout the first section. The rest will be built off of it. So, enjoy, and be kind to animals-- _review_ !

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**These Days**_—based on the song by Rascal Flatts  
By: bella'amor_

"James?"

A sweet voice calling his name jilted James out of his reverie as he passed through the wide, crowded streets of Hogsmeade. He was here on business, and couldn't stop long. But that voice…

He turned around. "Hey, love, is that you?"

His voice was smooth. The same charming, hypnotic voice that it had always been. He spoke again.

"It's been awhile… hasn't it? Well, turn around, let's see you."

He watched, as the petite woman with deep red hair and dazzling green eyes did a little spin for him. It reminded him of that day, years ago. It had been autumn, and she had danced in the leaves. He wanted to remind her of this, but he only said, "Wow, you're hair got so long."

She paused in her twirling, and looked at him, her face hard to read.

"Do you like it?"

He smiled. It was one of those smiles that held everything in the world. It was one of those smiles that made a girl melt. But this girl didn't. Not on the outside, at least.

"Yeah. Yeah, I love it."

She cocked her head at him. "You're not just saying that, are you?"

He indulged her. "I really do, Lily. You're gorgeous, like you always were."

She smiled sweetly. "So, what have you been up to James? What are you doing with your life now?"

He looked down. "Well, you know. Auror-training ended a few months ago. Me and Sirius are partners. We're working on the Dearborn case right now…"

She gasped. "Caradoc? What's happened to him? Gosh, I haven't seen him in ages… Not since that day we took the picture with the… well, you remember." She looked down, her eyes wide; deep with an unknowable sorrow. When she looked up again, the sadness was masked. Her eyes were hard, yet soft at the same time. It was the sort of look that war gives to young women. It was the sort of look that says the wearer is losing faith quickly. It was the sort of look that pleaded for help from one person. Unbeknownst to him and her alike, that person was James.

James cleared his throat. "Never mind Caradoc. Let's not talk about him just now, yeah?" His eyes pleaded. "What about you? What have you been doing since… well, since you left, I s'pose. Remus told me you went to Morocco for a couple of months." His voice cracked slightly, and if you listened very closely, you could tell it nearly killed him to get his next words out.

"I heard you married Darren O'Hare, the Irish quidditch captain."

Lily shifted uncomfortably, and suddenly her right hand was obscured by her robes.

"Well… I… I mean, yeah. Yeah, I did. We met in Morocco. It was like in Casablanca, sort of. Well, not really, I suppose, because we hadn't had a tryst before, but it reminded me of it, and growing up, that was my favourite movie. What can be better than living a life right out of the movies?"

As she spoke, James saw that her eyes were glimmering with unshed tears. Her voice was thicker when she continued. "Anyway, Darren and I decided to just go with it. We got married four months ago."

James did the math in his head. It had only been about two and a half months since she left him when she had gotten married. Lovely.

"Who'd have thought? Lily Evans, marrying a Professional Quidditch Player. Not the Lily Evans I knew." His tone was still light, but his implications were anything but. "But, enough about that. Are you Head Healer at Mungo's yet? You told me that was your goal. Three months and the spot would be yours. How'd you do, Red?"

She turned her head away. "Well, I decided to become a Mediwitch instead, so I could travel with Darren." She looked up at him, and her tone bordered defensive. "Those quidditch games can get rough. They really need good healers on the scene."

James smiled gently. "I know. I remember. Well, it's good to know that you're still making a difference." His tone was slightly bitter, despite the smile that was still in place. He looked around quickly, before leaning in closer to the beautiful, sad girl. "Listen, I have to go meet Sirius, but just know, if you ever come back around that _sleepy old house,_ promise me you'll stop in… see an _old friend._" He looked pointedly at her, to make sure that she got his meaning. "We could really use you again," he whispered, leaning in to kiss her forehead. He rested his hand on her shoulder, lost in memories for what seemed like ages, but in reality was only a few seconds. In his mind he saw the day she left, saying that she needed time to think. Saying she needed to see more of the world—some of it that wasn't riddled by dark lords and masked men. She had said that she would come back.

He shook his head a fraction to clear it, and looked Lily in the eye. "I'm late, but it was great to see you again. Say hi to Darren for me. We met a few years back over the summer, at the International Quidditch Conference. He ought to remember me. We got on well." He smiled, and removed his hand from her shoulder. She blinked.

"Yeah, yeah of course, I'll tell him. Say hello to Sirius for me, too, will you? I haven't seen that crazy man in ages. Tell him I miss him. Tell him to write."

James nodded as he turned away.

"I will. I'll see you around, Lily." With that, he started off through the throngs of people who had been swirling around them, paying no attention to the reunion that had just taken place. He didn't look back. He didn't get to see Lily staring at his retreating back, waving feebly until she lost sight of him in the crowd.

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**A/N: So what did you think? The next chapter or two are already written and ready to be posted, so the wait shouldn't be too long. Please review? Anyway, thanks for reading, and have a fabulous week. )**


	2. Thinking of You

Disclaimer: None of it is mine. JK is the genius, not me (_this_ time...)

A/N: So here's part two... are you excited yet? Fabulous. Enjoy!

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**These Days**_—based on the song by Rascal Flatts  
by: bella'amor  
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Sirius sat in a booth in the corner of the Three Broomsticks, sipping a warm mulled mead and drumming his fingers impatiently on the table. He was dressed in a set of sharp black robes which accentuated his mysterious, dark eyes, and hid the fact that his wand was drawn underneath the table. The fact that his eyes were carefully scanning the crowd, yet looking casual at the same time cemented the picture of constant vigilance that was Sirius Black.

As he drained the last of the mead from his glass, Madame Rosmerta, the barmaid, approached the table with a broad grin. "Finished already? Surely your date hasn't stood you up?" Her grin shifted to a concerned yet curious expression.

"Nah, Rosie, I'm meeting James. We had plans… Bloody bastard is fifteen minutes late, though."

Rosmerta let out a charming laugh, before turning away. She called over her shoulder, "I reckon he's paying you back for most of seventh year!" She winked, and returned to the bar to get him another mead.

Sirius sat back in his seat a little as the door to the pub opened and James stepped in. As the door swung shut again, an ominous crack of thunder shattered visions of a warm, sweet spring day. Sirius watched James as he walked back to their usual table. Something was off, he thought. James was missing his swagger. Sitting down, he greeted a concerned Sirius.

"Hey, mate, sorry I'm late. I ran into an old friend…" Sirius's eyes widened.

"_Who?_"

James fidgeted a bit, before confessing.

"It was Lily, and she was just as gorgeous as she was the day she left."

Sirius's eyebrows shot up.

"You ran into _Lily?_ As in Lily Evans? Bloody hell mate, no wonder you look like misery on feet. _Merlin_. Lily Evans." He shook his head, disbelieving. "So? How is she?"

"She's _married_." James's head hit the table with a thud. "She has a _husband_ who is not me."

Sirius heaved a sigh. He could see that they wouldn't be getting much done today, and that was bad. The Dearborn case was important to both the Order and the Ministry, and the longer it took them to find something, the less likely it was that they would find _anything_.

"Mate, Remus told us she was married. He told us when she wrote him," here, he made a noise of slight disgust, "two months ago."

James lifted his head off the table, and looked around for Madame Rosmerta, saying, "Yeah, but it's one thing hearing it from Moony. Hearing it come from her mouth was ten _thousand_ times worse. She's _married!_ And not to me! Dammit, Sirius, how did that happen? How did I arse up so badly that she got married in Morocco, two months after she left me? What in Merlin's name did I do that she would go and marry a bloody Irish Quidditch captain? _I_ was quidditch captain too… she _hated_ the sport when I played, and now she's given up her dream and become a _mediwitch_, just so she could travel around with _Darren._" He said the name in high-pitched voice, mocking it to the best extent that he could at that particular moment.

James would have kept on his tirade about Lily and Darren had Sirius not interrupted sharply.

"_James._ Stop it. She's a grown woman now, and you weren't what she thought she needed. You can't change the past, and we don't have time to whine about it. We have _got _to finish this case soon. You need to forget about Lily Evans and all of her hypocritical foolishness. Because that's what she is, to have left you—a fool. We all know it, now stop implying it. We are Aurors, James. _Aurors._ We didn't get here by wallowing in self pity. It's time to move on, and it's time to find Caradoc Dearborn. We'll find you another girl someday. If we don't, you can always turn in your wand and become a priest. Are you with me?" With his last words, Sirius eyed James imploringly.

James's face had hardened throughout Sirius's speech, and he let out a fervent, "_Yes._" He looked down quickly, before muttering, "Thanks, Padfoot."

Sirius stuck out his hand, and the two did their special secret handshake, which they had developed the summer after second year. As they were finishing, Madame Rosmerta arrived at the table carrying two firewhiskys.

"It looked like you were having an intense discussion over here. Everything all right, James?"

James smiled charmingly at the barmaid, heartened by Sirius's pep-talk.

"Brilliant, thanks Rosie. Thanks for the firewhiskys."

She inclined her head in acknowledgement as she headed towards a group of noisy Hogwarts third years.

The two young Aurors downed their whiskeys, stood up, and strode towards the door. James pulled a galleon from his pocket and tossed it across the bar to cover their nearly-forgotten tab.

>- O>- 

Lily hurried through the sudden downpour, her head down and the hood of her cloak pulled tight over her now-frizzy scarlet curls. She was late as well. That afternoon she was supposed to meet Darren at the Hog's Head… a place that was not quite as classy as the Three Broomsticks—the pub she usually frequented. As she neared the entrance to the inn, she decided that she _really _didn't want to go in there—not anymore.

In accordance with her sudden decision, she stopped walking, turned on the spot, and apparated to their newest flat in London. She would tell him that the rain was ruining her hair. He always believed those sorts of excuses, as that was the type of girl he had dated before Lily.

For some reason, as Lily climbed the stairs to their flat, she was on the verge of tears. She looked around quickly, before fumbling with her wand, and tapping the magical locks open.

The flat wasn't quite as secure as she would have liked, because Darren didn't have time to open too many difficult locks. Ever since his team had beat Puddlemere United a few weeks back, the magical paparazzi had been clamoring to catch the famed captain's every move. Much to Lily's dismay, they were also intent upon capturing him in a nonexistent moment of infidelity. Not surprisingly, they had been unsuccessful, and all the more persistent.

Lily stumbled slightly over the threshold and tossed her cloak on the ground, collapsing onto a soft white leather couch. With a deep sigh, she closed her eyes.

"What is _wrong_ with me?" she muttered to herself, covering her face with her hands. "I should be in the Hog's Head right now, with Darren. Darren, my _husband._"

She opened her eyes and slowly looked around the room, as if familiarizing herself with her surroundings. Her eyes stopped on her dark cloak, pooled on the floor. It was like a cancer spot on her clean white carpet. She stood up slowly and, walking over to the cloak, bent down to pick it up. Anal retentiveness had always been one of her stronger traits, and now was no exception.

As she opened the closet to hang it up, her eyes slid unthinkingly up to the top shelf, resting on a plain black box. She stared at it a moment, then hung up her cloak. As she made to close the door, she caught sight of the box again.

Slowly, _hesitantly_, she reached up to the top shelf and pulled it down. She walked back to the couch, but stayed standing. When she finally did sit, she opted for the carpet instead.

She found that she could not tear her gaze from the box. She set it in front of her robotically. Still staring, she rested her hand on the lid.

If she opened that box, happiness and misery, memories and fears would accost her. She would be plunged into an icy bath of reality. An icy bath of regret, telling her all that she had left behind. She would see all of her old friends—the ones who she had run away from when everything had gotten too grisly. They were the ones who had stayed to fight. They were the ones who had stayed to die. They were also the ones who knew she was a coward. If she opened that box, she would not be able to deny any longer the feelings that had been threatening to overtake her for four months. If she opened that box, she would release a myriad of emotions that were perhaps better oppressed.

As she pulled the lid off, she felt distinctly like Pandora.

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**A/N: well? what'd ya think? I know one way you can tell me... ;) ha, anyway, after this, there should be one more _quick_ update, but then you'll prolly have to wait ages and ages. I will finish it though, so never lose heart! I _so_ dont want school to start... **


	3. That Time

Disclaimer: Harry Potter etc. is... (_my birthday present... my precious...)_ JK Rowlings... _(stupid FAT hobbit...)_

A/N: I promise I wasn't calling JK a stupid fat Hobbit, but that's one of my favourite lines from LOTR 2. haha. oh lord. I'll stop typing stupid things that noone actually wants to read, and _you_, dear reader, will do your job and R&R... right? fabulous. Do enjoy.

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**These Days**_—based on the song by Rascal Flatts_

It was late—past midnight—when James and Sirius finally stumbled home. They had followed two leads that they had gotten. Both turned out to be dead ends. One was very nearly a successful trap. The two were exhausted. It was lucky that they shared a flat, or they would probably have ended up staying together anyway. It was too dangerous to go home alone, these days.

As Sirius collapsed on the couch, sweaty and dirty, James headed for the dark kitchen. Sitting down at their beat up wooden table (exploding snap was much more exciting when the cards were… _modified_,) he conjured a glass of firewhisky in a crystal goblet. Lost in his thoughts, he didn't hear Sirius come up behind him.

"Well, at least my little pep-talk lasted eight hours. I didn't think we'd make it past three."

With his head bowed, James raised his glass, toasting Sirius's words.

"Come on mate, budge up. You shouldn't drink alone." Sitting down, Sirius smiled slightly before slapping the table. "Now conjure me up one of those buggers. You know I can't make it as good as you can."

With a flick of James's wand, Sirius was drinking with him. For a little while, Sirius's presence kept James from brooding over the beautiful redhead who seemed to have forgotten all of her dreams.

They continued like that for a good hour, all the while discussing the Dearborn case—not without segues into the topics of the Quidditch World Cup and old pranks that they had pulled whilst at Hogwarts. It was only when Sirius realised just how late it really was that he stood up, stretched, and announced that he was dead chuffed, and really needed to get some shut-eye before waking up bloody early the next morning. Despite all of the hours they had put in that night, they were still required to be at the Ministry of Magic at 6 A.M. sharp. That Mad-Eye Moody drove a hard team.

James bid him farewell, before refilling his glass. He could tell already that he wouldn't be getting very much sleep that night.

He slumped in his chair a little more. _She was married._ The thought echoed over and over in his head as he downed his third glass of firewhisky in an hour. Third _large_ glass. Sighing, he rested his head in his hands. His hair was messy as ever, its wild, tangled locks reflecting his thoughts. _Married._ To a _quidditch player_.

When James had played on the Gryffindor house team, she had only gone to his matches grudgingly, and only after they had been dating for a few months. She had expressly forbidden him from going into professional Quidditch, despite the fact that he had never actually considered that as an option in the first place. And now?

Now, she had ran away from her friends and the Order of the Phoenix, turned her back on her dream job at St. Mungo's, forgotten her intense passion for making a difference in the war against Voldemort, and married a bloody Irish quidditch captain after knowing him for two and a half months at the most.

What had happened to the Lily Evans that he knew and loved? He had known previously that the war was having an effect on the lovely red-head. You couldn't have that much passion and not be effected by the amount of carnage caused by Voldemort and his Death Eaters. But for her to turn her back on everything that she had ever believed, and to forget all of her goals and aspirations? James was disappointed in her.

As Big Ben chimed 3 AM, James sighed again. He stood up abruptly, and vanished the glass he had been using. It was time to try and get some sleep.

He left the kitchen and went to his room, only to see a picture of him and Lily (together and happy) by his bedside. It was a picture from their Hogwarts days. It had been taken right after exams, and they were running around on the grounds near the lake. Sirius had snapped the picture just as James had caught Lily, and pulled her into a light kiss. The sun shining down on the couple completed the picture perfectly.

James's dreams that night were plagued with red hair and wide green eyes. Tears fell from the sun while the lake on the Hogwarts grounds turned to mud.

He slept fitfully; awake just as often as he was asleep.

When he awoke in the morning, his head was spinning and the sky was screaming—throwing a fit just for him.

As he got up and dressed, his head was consumed by the crash of thunder that sounded frequently through the too-thin walls of his flat.

Before leaving his room, he stared out the window at the rain that was falling from the sky in droves. He could see that today would be hell.

The weather reflected his mood perfectly.

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Darren was sitting at the bar in Hogsmeade, waiting a little less than patiently for his wife of four months. _Why wasn't she here yet?_ Surely her errands weren't taking _that _long! She had left their flat at noon, assuring him that she would be able to meet him at the Hogs Head later that day. Of course, it _had_ started raining suddenly.

He knew that girls were picky about their appearances, and that Lily's hair tended to frizz when the weather was wet. Perhaps that was why she was so late—waiting for a break in the rain.

A quarter of an hour later, he was still sitting at the bar, now into his second mulled mead (and more than his fair share of germs from the glasses…). Lily still hadn't arrived. Clearly she wouldn't be coming.

Standing up, Darren paid the tall, slightly creepy barman and left the pub. The sky was a miserable grey, and the torrential rain drowned out any other sound that might have tried to reach his ears.

By now, he was soaked through and through, and more than a little angry with Lily for standing him up. She could have at least sent an owl. _Then_, maybe he would have been able to look in Quality Quidditch for a bit. He couldn't help loving that shop, even though being the captain of a professional team meant that there wasn't much to tempt him there any more, as he had most of it. Still, it brought back his school days.

He sighed. Things were different now that he was out of school. Things were harder. Things were darker. Darren had always harboured a slight fear of the dark. It was his little secret.

With a particularly brilliant flash of lightening, he turned deliberately on the spot, determined to reach his destination, despite the horrid weather. With an inaudible crack, he disappeared from the wide streets of Hogsmeade, and reappeared in the dark, dank alleyway outside his apartment.

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A/N: You'll have to forgive me for my short chapters, but there's a certain way that I want to break the story up, and even though the sections aren't that long, it just works out better this way. :) so, i hope you enjoyed this chapter, and if you wanna be fabulous (which everyone should want...) then simply review! Yes, it is that easy folks! Fabulous equals reviewers! _who knew,_ right? haha. i'm an idiot. anyway, thanks for reading!**


	4. Fountain of Sorrows

Disclaimer: It's all mimicry. I am not JK Rowlings.

A/N: And now, presenting Chapter Four!! Sorry about the two year wait, folks. This was actually written two years ago, I think. But somebody just read all of my stories and favourited them, and added me as a favourite author, and I felt flattered. Plus I am in another creative writing class this semester, so maybe I am just in the writing mood. Anyway, I thought I would attempt to carry on, as I rather like this story. I won't be offended if nobody remembers this story ever existed, but I might be offended if nobody reviews. Constructive criticism _always_ welcome.

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These Days

_—based on the song by Rascal Flatts_

_By: bella'amor_

She had done it. The black lid lay conspicuously on the white carpet, and now there was only one thing left to do. Steeling herself, Lily reached one pale hand forward and carefully picked up the photograph that lay on top. It was a picture of herself and James. He was kissing her softly on the cheek, while she was laughing and running her fingers through his hair. She blinked.

As she gazed at the picture, her fingers ached for that familiar, yet faraway feel of James's soft, messy locks of hair. Darren's hair was curly. He didn't let her touch it. He was constantly followed by witches trying to snap photos of him. Quidditch stars can't have messy hair if they're not on the field.

Her eyes fell on another picture, and of course, this one was of James as well. He was standing under the beech tree by the lake at Hogwarts. He kept running his fingers through his hair. Was he aiming for that windswept look that he thought she loved so much? She wondered if he ever knew that she really did like it. He had stopped doing that so often once she had accepted his frequent bids for her affection. She gazed fondly down at the picture, before putting down and reaching in the box for another one.

This picture contained neither her, nor James. Instead, it was a picture of Marlene McKinnon, Dorcas Meadowes, and Emmeline Vance. They had been her three best friends at Hogwarts. All three in Gryffindor, all three aspiring to great things. They had made plans together. They had first made plans to live together, and later on, to fight Voldemort together. Neither plan had worked, and Marlene was dead.

Through her tears, still flowing freely, she stared at the picture for what seemed like ages, taking in the smooth, carefree faces of her friends. They hadn't spoken since she had left England six and a half months ago.

Their faces flashed through her already disjointed thoughts. She hadn't heard any news of them— not since Remus's last letter. It had said that Marlene had been killed along with her family, and that he worried about Dorcas. It said that she was in danger from the Dark Lord. After reading the news about Marlene, Lily had disregarded his statement about Dorcas. Everyone was in danger from the darkness. Only those lucky few had lights to lead them out.

Now she was staring through the picture, and into times long past. Giggles in the corridors, full-bellied laughs by the lake, and quiet chuckles in the library. Those noises rarely escaped the red-head's mouth these days. Marlene was dead, and Emmeline and Dorcas hadn't contacted her since she had written them to tell of her marriage to Darren. No… Those noises, those sounds of gaiety and lightheartedness rarely escaped anyone's mouth these days. Voldemort's reign of terror was a censor, stifling all joy. He was flanked by an army of Dementors who sucked out happiness, but He was the largest Dementor of them all.

Long ago, James had sat in her parents' living-room and told her about the Dementors that guarded the wizard prison, Azkaban. She had thought then that being trapped in a tower with only rotting creatures and despair as companions would be the worst possible punishment. Now she knew that it was true. She was trapped in a maelstrom of darkness, and couldn't see the way out. She had thought then that the Dementor's kiss was an escape, as terrible as it was. Now she knew that it was a condemnation. Those who suffered Voldemort's kiss never escaped, and were worse than dead. Those who suffered _Voldemort's_ kiss became Death Eaters.

She sat on the floor thinking about her old friends for what seemed like ages. Maybe she _should_ be worried for Dorcas. Marlene and her whole family had been killed by Death Eaters, and _she_ hadn't been part of the Order as long as Dorcas had. Who was Lily, to say that Dorcas's life was not immediately threatened? She shuddered.

She was such a _coward_. Her friends were being picked off one by one, as she sat and watched. She had left the Order to try and escape the bloodbath that she knew was waiting for them, but instead of escaping, she was standing inside of a glass house, watching as its walls were spattered with the blood of those she loved. Marlene… Caradoc… She had heard earlier that week that Gideon and Fabian Prewett had been taken down by five Death Eaters. She had heard that they fought to the end, like heroes. _She_ had run. Now she was watching. Waiting for someone to throw that one rock that would break down her feeble glass shelter. _Coward. _Perhaps she would throw the rock herself…

The flood of tears that fell down her cheeks matched the weather perfectly, making her pretty face beautifully tragic.

The next picture she pulled from the box was just James. He was grinning his famous grin, whilst rolling his eyes. She had forced him to take this picture. He looked so handsome. So young.

The day that picture was taken, James had shown her that the Shrieking Shack wasn't truly haunted. That was the day they had first heard about the Order of the Phoenix. That day, he had pressed the knot at the base of the Whomping Willow, freezing its whip-like branches. She had been too scared to enter that dark, dark tunnel, but he had offered her his hand. He had held it out to her, saying that he would go with her. Whatever was waiting for them down in that tunnel, he would go with her.

Her tears flowed harder as she stared at the picture. That afternoon. That very afternoon, he had held out his hand to her once again, telling her the Order _needed her_. Needed her to die with them? _"We could really use you again…"_ he had whispered.

The tears flowed harder, and her head was bowed. Through her sobs, she barely heard the quiet creak that meant the door was opening.

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Whatever Darren had expected to find upon his return home, this was not it.

There was no beautiful redhead curled up on their couch with a nice thick book, and a quill and some ink to take notes. There was no dinner on the stove, its delicious scent wafting through the doorway to greet him.

They had been married for four months, and his wife's behaviour still baffled him. Every other thing she did caught him by surprise. But this—this was really unexpected. He had never seen Lily so discomposed, and that frightened him.

When they first met, Lily had been sitting at a bar in Morocco, looking stunning, yet sad. Darren had always had a weak spot for troubled girls. Really they were the easiest to get to know, because they always wanted to talk about what was bothering them. As long as they didn't cry…

Lily had been troubled, sure, but she hadn't wanted to talk about it, and she certainly hadn't cried. He had never actually found out why she was at a bar in Morocco looking as though she had lost everything. When he had finally asked, a week after their second date, she didn't speak to him again for days. He had almost lost her then, and he learned quickly that she did not like when other people pried.

It was that bit of knowledge of his wife's character that made the scene in front of him so daunting. Lily was sitting on the floor, surrounded by photographs, sobbing uncontrollably. He had never seen her cry. He had never even seen her eyes glisten.

He only watched while she quickly put down the photograph she had been staring so intently at, sliding it into the pile. It was lost among her other memories now, never to be singled out by him alone.

He watched as she struggled to gain control of herself. A pale hand reached up to her face, wiping away tears, even as more fell. He turned his head. He felt guilty. He shouldn't be there right now, to witness her tears. He shouldn't be there…

He turned away, wanting dearly to just walk out the door. He shut it, instead.

She spoke softly, her voice weak and quiet, betraying her lack of control. "Hi, Darren…" She gave a loud sniff. He turned to face her again. Perhaps she was finished crying.

She spoke again. "Erm, sorry, I couldn't make it to the Hog's Head today…" She swiped at her face again. Her eyes were red. She turned her head away. "The rain… you know how my hair gets… I came home instead…" She looked up at him. She sniffed again, blinking rapidly. "I found some pictures from Hogwarts… just some old friends…"

She gave a weak chuckle, before standing up slowly. Without another word, she walked across that white, white carpet, and into the bathroom. The door closed resolutely.

Darren let out a breath he hadn't known he had been holding. He shook his head as though to clear it out, and took off his wet cloak. It wouldn't do to drip all over the floor. That certainly wouldn't improve his wife's mood.

After hanging it up in the closet, his eyes were drawn to the pile of photographs on the floor. His eyes flickered to the plain black box that they had come from. It was unmarked, and inconspicuous, other than the fact that it was black, while his carpet was white. Maybe it was that, or perhaps it was because its contents had clearly shaken his unshakeable wife, but he was curious.

As the sound of running water reached his ears, he made his decision. Bending down, Darren reached a tentative hand out to the stack of photographs that were a mixture of muggle and magic. After all, they _were _just pictures_…_

**A/N: **This chapter always makes me think of Jackson Browne's "Fountain of Sorrows." I don't really know if it works while you are reading it, but afterwords. Well, suffice it to say that it has been in my head since i started revising this, in preparation for posting it. Oh musical influence, and how it shouldbe a requirement. Review: make my day.


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